


Celebrations Among Friends

by violasarecool



Series: What Can 8 Grey Wardens Do? [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Epilogue, Fluff, Gen, Post-Dragon Age: Origins, background zevran/warden (fox)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>with the archdemon defeated, quentin finds himself in a flurry of celebrations, and promises of big changes to come. for now, though, he has time for a few more hours with the friends who've been with him through it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrations Among Friends

**Author's Note:**

> extra info if you haven't read [Mirror, mirror](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5709469): nonbinary mahariel refers to both Kit and Merle (the latter more specifically is agender). they both use they/them pronouns for the duration of this fic.

**Codex entry: The Battle of Fort Drakon**

And now I come in my report to the final battle atop Fort Drakon. For the Circle, this final skirmish against the Archdemon was surprisingly without any significant losses. There was a moment in the middle when a couple of our younger mages broke rank to fight beside the Hero of Ferelden―I won't name names, though I will say that they were some of his close friends―but luckily, no harm came of it (in all honesty, they fought better together than apart). By the end, several of our company were injured, but the Circle suffered no deaths: a miracle to be sure, and a welcome one considering the misfortunes we have already suffered in the past few months.

While the Wardens suffered the loss of one of their own from Orlais during the battle, Alistair Theirin and the Hero of Ferelden (a mage of our own fold by the name of Quentin Surana) survived to tell the tale. The Hero's brave actions during the battle are a credit to the Circle, and future students may do well to follow his example―though we would not want to lose too many of our number to the Grey Wardens! Of course, I am already resigned to the possibility that he will inspire exactly that in future years. Ah, well, such is the way of things, and we could hardly lose our mages to a better cause.

Now that the battle is over and the Archdemon lies dead, we can return to rebuilding the Ferelden Circle. With any luck, the darkspawn will fall back without the Archdemon to unite them, although I would not base all my hopes on this possibility. For the present, Ferelden has only to rest on the laurels of those who fought for this victory, and wait and see what the future brings.

_―An excerpt from Fereldan First Enchanter Irving's report on the Battle of Denerim_

* * *

The afternoon after they defeated the Archdemon felt like something out of a dream. Returning to Arl Eamon's estate accompanied by hundreds of troops, Oghren leading those around him in raucous drinking songs. Neri and Petra briefly breaking away from the other mages to ambush Quentin with hugs, the proud smile Irving gave him before gently but firmly steering them back toward the rest of the mages. The cheers when they approached the estate, the crowds already gathering in the streets. Countless soldiers and nobles and villagers approaching Quentin to congratulate him, clap him on the back, shake his hand, to see the Hero of Ferelden in the flesh―Sten holding off some of the more boisterous admirers. Alistair by his side, waving to the crowd with a wide grin.

The noise was deafening, the surge of people overwhelming. But the wash of sheer joy and relief was irresistible, and Quentin allowed himself to be carried along on a wave of adrenaline.

It helped that his friends barely left his side even while they milled around the interior of Arl Eamon's estate, preparations for Anora's coronation already underway. "If I left you alone, I might miss something key to the story I will be telling years from now," Leliana teased, though she gave him a reassuring smile. Mainly, the conversations consisted of the same repeated congratulations, peppered with introductions to high-ranking nobles. After an hour or two of this, Quentin's head was beginning to ache, and Zevran dragged him and Sten to a somewhat emptier hall to look at the paintings on the walls. Whether by virtue of their more remote location, or Sten's withering look bestowed on any bystanders who interrupted his commentary on the art, they weren't bothered for another hour.

Eventually, they rejoined the others, ready to leap into the fray once more. When the time finally came for Anora's coronation ceremony, however, Morrigan was conspicuously absent. "Well, I guess she has a little... demon... god... thing, to take care of now," Alistair said under his breath as they assembled in the Landsmeet chamber.

Quentin had to suppress a laugh. "Her child, you mean."

"Yeah, but with the essence of the Archdemon? Who knows how it'll turn out."

When the ceremony was over, Quentin noticed a little grey dog sitting primly beside Cerberus. He'd never _seen_ Morrigan take the form of a dog before, but...

He approached the dogs, kneeling to scratch Cerberus behind the ears. "Good boy. You did so well," he murmured, patting his flank. Then, he looked at the second dog. It watched him silently, tail wagging. "Hello." He held out a hand, and it leant forward to push its nose against his palm. "I know you have things to do, but you should stay a bit longer, just for today." He stood up, rumpling the dog's ears as he did so. "I'm going to talk to some people who will talk back," he said, smiling. "I'll be very sad if you leave without saying goodbye."

The dog made no indication that it understood, but later that afternoon, when the many troops and nobles had begun to leave, he found Morrigan in their room sitting cross legged on the floor beside Cerberus.

"There are Grey Wardens here, looking for you," she said as he stopped in the doorway.

"What?" he said, looking around the room.

"Not _here,"_ Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. "They came by earlier, three elves, no less. Apparently they were sent from Orlais."

Quentin raised his eyebrows. "Wow. I don't believe it." He ran a hand through his hair. "Huh. I suppose you'd have said already if Fox was one of them?"

"I suppose I might."

"Ok." He glanced out into the hall, then back at Morrigan. "Do you want to help me find them?"

She yawned. "Not particularly. Do tell me when you do, though. The one asking the questions was a mage, dark skin, cornrows."

"Alright, thanks. I'll be back." Quentin stepped out into the corridor, and headed toward the Landsmeet chamber; if there were Wardens from Orlais here, chances were they'd want to speak to Queen Anora at some point.

He made his way down the hall, passing several guards on the way.

"Warden-Commander."

"Good afternoon, Warden-Commander."

"Congratulations on your victory, Warden-Commander."

_Warden-Commander,_ he thought, shaking his head; first the 'Hero of Ferelden', and now this. The word sounded clunky, unreal. Hard to believe it belonged to _him._ Then, he smiled, remembering Neri's bemused expression that afternoon when Queen Anora introduced him to the assembled people as the Commander of the Grey. ("You get any more fancy titles, you'll have to have a separate page to sign off your letters," Neri said after the ceremony. "You'd better write me, now you're staying in one place." "I will," he promised.)

When he reached the door to the Landsmeet chamber, he heard conversation inside. He opened the door, and saw a group of people, Queen Anora among them. She looked up as he walked inside.

"And here he is," she said. "May I present to you the Hero of Ferelden, and Commander of the Grey."

Quentin stopped a few feet away to bow respectfully. "Queen Anora, I didn't expect you'd still be here."

She smiled. "Yes, well, I had some further business to discuss with Arl Eamon, but we were interrupted by the arrival of several guests from Orlais."

"Sorry about that," a voice said, a very familiar voice, and Quentin turned to see Fox standing beside the Grey Warden mage Morrigan had described. _Morrigan, you got me good,_ he thought, smiling.

"Do not be sorry," Queen Anora said, "you brought news that I hadn't dared hope for. We are grateful for Orlais's support of the Grey Wardens, and I am eager to re-establish ties after the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Ostagar."

"As are we," the mage Warden said.

"Now, I'm afraid I must leave you for time-being while I conclude my business with the Arl. However, when we have finished, I would like to speak to you, Warden-Commander, as well as you, Merle," she said, looking at the mage Warden, who nodded.

"Yes, your majesty," Merle said.

"Of course," Quentin said.

"I will send someone for you when we have finished. It was a pleasure to meet you," Queen Anora said to Merle. "Good afternoon." She turned and walked away, Arl Eamon with her.

Quentin turned to the three Wardens. "So." He glanced at Fox, who grinned, then back at Merle. "I'm Quentin," he said, holding out a hand.

"Merle," they replied, shaking his hand. "And this is Kit," they gestured at the smaller Warden, who nodded at him shyly, messy hair falling further over their face, "and Fox."

"Fancy seeing you here," Fox said.

"Yes," Quentin said, then to Merle: "we've met."

"Mm. He's told me all about his illicit travels with you," Merle said, giving Fox an amused glance. Fox made an apologetic face.

"He was a lot of help," Quentin said, "I hope he didn't get into too much trouble."

Fox snorted. "I mean, Fontaine wasn't pleased I went behind her back."

"She's never pleased," Kit muttered, and Quentin glanced at them, surprised. Kit noticed his gaze, and looked down, cheeks darkening.

Merle supressed a smile. "It did help with clearing up communication after Ostagar, though," they said.

"I'm glad," Quentin said. "So what brings you to Ferelden?" he asked curiously. "Queen Anora mentioned Orlais's support?"

"That would be us," Fox said, grinning.

"What?" Quentin stared at him, then back at Merle.

"Our Commander of the Grey, Alisse-Fontaine, sent us as a show of support from Orlais,"Merle explained. "As I understand it, the Ferelden Wardens lost most of their forces at Ostagar. We're here to help you rebuild."

"Oh, wow, that's great. Glad to have you with us," Quentin said, grinning broadly.

"Glad to be here," Merle said. Behind them, a side door opened, and Bann Teagan walked in.

"Ah, good, you're all here," he said, moving to meet them. "Warden-Commander," he said, dipping his head to Quentin. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take these three from you for a few moments. We're making preparations for your departure tomorrow, and I need their input."

"Alright," Quentin said, glancing at Merle, who nodded.

"Of course, whatever you need," Merle said.

"You should go relax while you can," Teagan said to Quentin. "The rest of the day will be dedicated primarily to tedious planning, I fear."

Quentin laughed. "Ok, thanks."

"See you later," Fox said, waving as they left.

Quentin wandered back down the hall, weaving between servants and various nobles. As he approached the guest quarters, he heard sounds of voices coming from his room. The door was ajar, and saw a group of people gathered inside. He pushed the door open.

"...but I said, "human, if you think you can best Oghren in combat, you've got another thing coming. Go on, gimme your best shot!' And then he ran off like he was being chased by a herd of Brontos!" Oghren exclaimed.

Quentin glanced around the room; inside, the entirety of their little group sat or stood in a semi-circle around the glowing fireplace. Alistair, sitting on the floor across from Oghren, looked up as he entered. "Hey, Quentin."

The others turned, and he was greeted by a chorus of hello's. "Hello," he said, smiling.

Morrigan sat on the floor closest to the door, Cerberus's head resting in her lap, and she glanced up at Quentin, eyebrows raised. "Find who you were looking for?" she asked.

"Yes," Quentin said, giving her an amused look. "You knew Fox was here, didn't you."

"Possibly," Morrigan said, smiling, and Quentin rolled his eyes.

"Ah, yes, he came by earlier when you were busy," Zevran said. "So many Wardens in one place, it baffles the mind."

"It's kind of exciting, actually," Alistair said. "There's five of us here right now, and in a few months we could have even more. Double that, maybe!"

"Very exciting," Quentin agreed. There was an empty spot on the floor beside Zevran, and he stepped around Cerberus and sat down. "I'm going to miss being surrounded by non-Wardens, though."

"However will you manage without your roving band of misfits?" Leliana teased.

"Badly, probably."

"Then it is a good thing you are taking at least one misfit with you," Zevran said, and he flopped back against Quentin's crossed legs. Quentin laughed, and extracted his arms, and Zevran settled down to lean against his stomach. "Let us not think of tomorrow quite yet," Zevran said. "Leliana, tell us a story."

Leliana smiled. "Alright. What kind of tale would you like to hear?"

"What about a story about your friends, Sketch and Tug?" Quentin said.

"But mainly the mage, yes?" Zevran asked, tilting his head up with a grin.

Quentin covered Zevran's mouth with his hand. "Both of them," he said.

"Alright," Leliana said, smiling, "I can do that. Let me think... Have I told you about the time we broke into the house of the noblewoman who owned, oh, at least twenty little dogs?"

"I don't think so," Quentin said, then with a slight smirk, "Alistair?"

"You know me too well," Alistair said, grinning. "No you haven't, Leliana, and honestly I'm disappointed you've kept it from us this long. _Twenty,_ though? How rich _was_ this woman?"

Leliana laughed. "More eccentric than rich. Really, she was the sort that we wouldn't have bothered with at all, except that she also managed to acquire some trinkets, including a diamond collier with the portrait of the wife of a neighbouring noble. He hired us to get it back."

"So what happened?" Alistair asked.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Quentin called.

The door opened, and Fox stuck his head in. "Uh, hey," he said, glancing around the crowded room.

"Come, join us," Zevran said, patting the floor next to him.

Fox closed the door behind him, and came and sat beside Quentin and Zevran. "Bann Teagan got us up to speed on a few things, the Archdemon, that stuff. Is―"

"Shh," Zevran said, "we can talk business later. Leliana was telling a story."

"Oh, cool." Fox looked at Leliana. "Please, go ahead," he said, grinning.

"Alright," Leliana said. "When I was a bard in Orlais, I worked with a few others, one of whom was another bard named Marjolaine," she told Fox, "although this story doesn't really concern her, so I won't bore you with details about her. Most of the assignments I had, I did with two others, an apostate elf named Sketch, and a dwarf named Tug. It was with them that I went to Ser Duveau's estate, to retrieve the diamond collier."

The fire crackled, and a log fell from the stack; Sten reached across Alistair for a charred stick stuck in the log pile beside the fireplace, and used it to lean the fallen log upright against the pile.

"It was a mild night, and people were still in the streets when we left, mostly those out drinking, staggering home from bars, going from one bar into another. So the city patrols didn't pay us any attention on our way to the estate." She sat back, tucking her legs under her. "We broke in through the back by the way of a window above the guard house. Inside..." A smile quirked her lips. "It's funny, because the furniture was cheap, painted garbage really, and the paint was scratched and peeling. But the walls were _covered_ in beautiful decorations, things like carnival masks, and gorgeous woven rugs. The other rooms were the same. Sketch found a pendant made of dragon bone in a three-legged desk." She paused. "By which I mean, it used to have four legs."

Alistair laughed. "I was going to say..."

"Though they do make them with three legs!" Leliana said, smiling.

"I've seen tables in courtly houses with as many as 5 or 8 legs," Wynne said. "It is quite extravagant."

"Really?" Leliana asked. "I've never seen a table with 8 legs, but I suppose I should not be surprised."

"Go on with the story," Alistair said.

"I don't know, I quite enjoy hearing about the many kinds of tables you all have encountered," Zevran said with a wicked grin. "Tell me, has anyone ever encountered a table with a―"

"No," Leliana and Alistair said at the same time.

"Pity," Zevran said.

Oghren leaned forward in his chair to nudge Quentin in the back with his foot. "Bet you I could find one," Oghren said. Quentin gave him a look. "Hey, it'd be a great conversation starter."

"I have a supposed Antivan good luck charm," Fox said, and the others turned toward him. "I mean, related to what Zevran said―It's a penis with wings," he said, shrugging.

Zevran sat up, a grin spreading across his face. "Please, share with us this magnificent trophy."

"I don't have it with me," Fox said, "it's in Orlais."

"Ma feca. Ah well." He chuckled. "As to its ability to bring you luck... well, I suppose that depends on how you use it."

"Eh, I don't need a good luck charm," Fox said, unconcerned, "I just really wanted a tiny dick."

"Most people strive for the opposite," Zevran replied, as Quentin heard Sten ask Oghren, "Is that a common desire among elves?".

" _Ok_ ," Alistair declared, voice carrying over Oghren's laugh, "back to the story about breaking into a rich woman's house, I don't really want to hear any more about anyone's nether regions."

"Better save it for later, then," Fox whispered to Zevran.

Leliana cleared her throat. Quentin bit back a grin, glancing down at Zevran, who then looked up at Quentin and waggled his eyebrows.

"As we crossed through the estate toward the room where we were told we'd find the collier, I noticed a bowl of water on the floor, the kind of thing nobles use for their dogs. I pointed this out to Sketch, but we agreed that he could always stun it before it had time to make too much noise. We weren't going to let ourselves be set back by a single dog, naturally." She smiled ruefully. "Of course, it was not just one dog.

"We passed the master bedroom and the guest suites without a sound, but when we reached the kitchens, we heard claws on wood. The dog, we thought. _No problem_ , we said." Leliana rolled her eyes. "Sketch stood by the door, staff ready, and I opened the door.

"Inside, was _every dog that woman owned,_ lying on the floor."

"Oh no," Alistair said with a grin, eyes creased with entertainment.

"Oh yes," Leliana said. "And they weren't asleep, oh no. As soon as we opened that door, their heads came up to see who was there. Twenty-four pairs of little black eyes staring at us. Sketch hardly had time to raise his staff when they _erupted_ out the door, a mass of fluff and little paws that sent Sketch crashing to the floor, and―"

There was a knock at the door, and Leliana glanced up, then over at Quentin, who shrugged.

"Come in," Quentin called.

The door opened a fraction, and Kit stuck their head around the door. Their eyes fell on the large number of people gathered in the small room, draped across chairs, the floor, and in a few cases, each other. After a moment, they found Quentin. "Warden-Commander, ser!" they said, snapping into an exaggerated salute.

"Just Quentin, please," Quentin said. Oghren sniggered.

"Okay," Kit said. "Merle wants to talk to you. Oh, and also the, uh, Queen. Queen Anora? They're in her study."

"Alright, thanks, I'll be right there." He watched as they nodded, then withdrew, closing the door behind them.

Behind him, Oghren coughed, and Quentin turned to see him grinning widely. _"Warden-Commander_ , huh?"

"Don't act so surprised, you already knew about that," Quentin said.

"Sure, but it sounds so _fancy_ coming from some recruit."

Quentin narrowed his eyes at Oghren, who laughed.

"I hope that one didn't advertise your whereabouts," Morrigan said dryly, "or else we may soon find ourselves mobbed by your admirers."

"I already did the _crowd-pleasing,"_ Quentin groaned, "there can't be _too_ much more of this."

"Better you than me," Alistair said.

"That's rich coming from the man who narrowly escaped being _crowned King,_ " Quentin shot.

"But I _wasn't_ , and that's the important part," Alistair said. "Now I'm just Warden number 2, important enough to be trusted with fun missions, but without so much of the limelight."

"I have a feeling you won't be on the 'fun missions' much longer if you keep teasing the Warden-Commander," Wynne said, smiling.

"Pshh. I'm sure Quentin will survive a little teasing," Leliana said.

Quentin sighed theatrically. "You see what I put up with?" he said to Fox. "Be glad they're not coming with us to Amaranthine."

"Um, hello?" Alistair said, waving a hand. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"Most of them aren't, anyway," Quentin said, grinning.

"Speaking of Amaranthine," Leliana said, "you'd better hurry up and go speak to the Queen, _Warden-Commander."_

Zevran laughed, and Quentin looked down at him. "Do not."

"I did not say anything," Zevran said, eyebrows raised. "Although―"

"Nope," Quentin said, pushing Zevran off his lap, "I'm going before you say anything else, goodbye."

"I am hurt," Zevran said, still sprawled on the floor as Quentin made his way to the door. "You have wounded me deep in my heart."

"You certainly are talking a lot for someone with a mortal wound," Leliana said, Wynne chuckling as Sten let out an exasperated huff.

"In fact, I may just leave you for our rocky friend, Shale."

Shale, who had been watching the proceedings with disinterest, turned her gaze to Zevran. "It may do _what?"_

"Zevran, we're not dating," Quentin said, laughing.

"Not any more," Zevran said. "Shale, mi amor, let us leave these underlings to their petty squabbles. We will show them that our love is above such things."

Morrigan made a retching sound.

"The painted elf thinks it is being humourous," Shale said. "It would do better to stick with sticking knives in pathetic flesh forms."

"Wow," Leliana said.

"Rejected again," Zevran said, shaking his head.

"I... I'm going? Now?" Quentin said, trying not to laugh. "I'll be back in a bit, don't set anything on fire."

Fox made a low comment, and as Quentin closed the door behind him, he heard Alistair reply indignantly: "Of course letting the fire in the hearth spread counts!"

He shook his head, smiling. He was going to have to apologize to Wynne, later, for leaving her with them. _Like herding cats,_ she would say, with a certain fond exasperation. He turned a corner, making his way down the empty halls. Wynne would tell him he didn't need to apologize. Morrigan, though... The memory of her irritated expression surfaced, and he snorted. _Oh, my long-suffering friend._ Maybe Cerberus would convince her to stay until he got back.

(He didn't, of course. Quentin forgave him this, because, as he told Cerberus when he finally returned to his empty room after an afternoon of planning and last minute discussions, "there's not a person or dog in Thedas who could keep her from going wherever she pleases.")

That evening, as Quentin changed out of his robes and into his loose sleep shirt, he imagined Morrigan walking alone in the dark, face lit only by a flicker of conjured flame. _I know you had to go, but I'll miss you,_ he thought. Then, he glanced at the door, beyond which he knew the rest of his companions were likely settling down for the night in their respective guest rooms. _I'll miss all of you._

* * *

Later that night, Zevran lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Beside him, Fox lay sprawled across over half the bed, mouth open as he snored into a puddle of drool. Zevran supressed a chuckle. Evidently the long days of travel to Ferelden had tired him out, because he had fallen sleep before he had the chance to even think about leaving and going back to his own room.

For Zevran, however, sleep was still a fuzzy thought floating just out of reach, and so he slipped out of bed, and padded barefoot into the hall. Oddly, the thought that Fox might still be there in the morning was an almost welcome one. _Someone is becoming sentimental,_ he told himself. Then, he smiled, and shook his head. _Becoming? That moment passed the first time you called your travelling companions your friends._

He stopped in front of the door across the hall. There was light coming from under the door, and he knocked, then when no answer came, opened the door. Inside, Quentin sat on a small bed, reading from a thick leather-bound book. Zevran took a few steps inside, and Quentin started, head jerking up. Then, spotting Zevran, he laughed. Or rather, he looked like he was laughing, but he made no sound. "That is extremely creepy," Zevran said. "Sigil?"

Quentin beckoned with one hand, and Zevran took a few steps closer. "Now?" he said, and Zevran smiled.

"I hear you now, yes."

"Sorry," Quentin said, patting the bed, and Zevran came over and sat down, scooting back to lean against the wall. "I thought I made the area it silences a bit larger, but I guess not." He closed his book, and set it down on the table beside him. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, mock-innocently.

Zevran snorted. "It is funny you say that," he said, "because Fox fell asleep _very_ quickly."

"And I thought 'sleeping together' was just a euphemism," Quentin said, smiling.

"Ah, but while he is sleeping, I am not," Zevran said.

Quentin nodded. "True." He yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth.

"I trust we didn't keep you awake?"

Quentin shook his head. "Nah. I just put up the silence sigil a little early. No problem." He looked over at the book beside him. "It's my own fault I'm still awake," he said, and grinned sheepishly when Zevran raised his eyebrows. "Have you seen the library here? It's incredible, there's so many different books."

"How many of them have you read?" Zevran asked.

"I haven't been reading cover to cover," Quentin said, "but I scanned through 3 or 4. Queen Anora said I could bring some with me when we go to Amaranthine."

"We are to be a travelling library, then," Zevran said, shaking his head fondly.

"Well they _did_ give us a cart..." Quentin grinned. "How many other supplies do we really need?"

"I cannot believe I am friends with such a ridiculous person," Zevran declared.

"Hey, you decided to come with me."

Zevran stabbed a finger at him. "I thought you were going to kill me."

"I wasn't, though."

"No," Zevran smiled. "But you are far too trusting." He leaned back against Quentin's knees, then grunted. "Ay madre, your bones are harder than rocks." Quentin laughed, and put his knees down so Zevran could lean back comfortably.

"I think it turned out ok, though," Quentin said.

"Hm?"

"You joining our party?"

"Ah." Zevran smiled. "It could have been worse, yes."

Quentin thought of their other friends, curled up in their own beds, ready to greet the morning together one last time. "I don't see how it could possibly have ended better."


End file.
